The Attack of the Mary Sues
by Overly Cynical
Summary: When the Mary-sues are unleashed from their extra nasty prison and start screwing everybody senseless, a small group of heroes must find a way to destroy the menace. Even Eru cannot help them now. It is the overlooked character's time to shine!
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. I'm proud to say I don't own Mary-sues.  
  
Long ago, in a time before reckoning, Eru Iluvatar, while fucking around creating the world and all that crap, made a mistake. Arda was meant to be a paradise, free of evil. But it was not.  
Yeah, yeah, Melkor went evil and stuff, but lo and behold! late one night after a caffeine binge, Eru accidentally created a batch of elves with several important functions disabled. They had no capacity for intelligent thought, only the basic emotions, and they had a faulty language module. And as he looked upon them, Eru thought,  
'Oh fuck! I screwed up. I can't get rid of them, all the other Christ-figures will laugh at me.'  
So to compensate for their shortcomings, he tweaked their beauty a bit. But in doing so, he made a terrible error. He also tweaked certain abilities and functions. Such as seduction. Such as fighting skill.  
Such as obsession. . . . . . . . . for blonde, male elves.  
  
Deep was the devastation they unleashed upon Arda. Melkor and Ungolianat looked like freaking Good Samaritans in comparison. Eru bestowed upon his Valar special abilities to rid the world of these foul creatures. And when this failed to work, he shat himself silly and ran around screaming. Eventually one of the Valar slapped him silly and when that didn't work, lit Eru's bong on the Flame Imperishable.  
During the hazy hours directly following his drug binge, Eru came up with an idea. It wasn't a particularly good idea, but then again, it WAS drug induced, so that was to be expected.  
His plan was to bribe Melkor into taking them all and hiding them. Melkor agreed, on a few conditions. He was to be the ruler of Arda, the elves would be his to command and Varda was to be his sex slave. Eru was about to accept when Varda showed up and bitch slapped him, and Manwë came and bitch slapped Melkor and told him that he was leaving him. Melkor cried like a ten year old girl.  
Eru, rubbing his face, slipped Melkor a fiver. Melkor shortened his demands to being ignored in a military sense for at the very least ten thousand years, ten boxes of Belgian Chocolates and a bunch of elves to mutilate. In addition, he was to be allowed to name these foul creatures.  
Eru readily agreed, and suggested calling the foul creatures 'fangirls'. Melkor instead chose to name them 'Mary-sues', because that was his pet name for Manwë on evenings when he had had to much sherry.  
And so to make a long story short, Melkor imprisoned the Mary-sues in a deep, dark and very nasty place. Eru went back to be the calm creator of existence, and Varda got over nearly becoming Melkor's bitch. Oh, yeah, and Manwë and Melkor got back together for a while, but Melkor's desire to be evil and take over Arda and stuff got in the way. Plus, Manwë had a wonky nose. Manwë went on to be a champion of good and righteousness, and he got a really cool herald!  
Eventually, Melkor's ten-thousand years were spent and the Valar pounced and kicked his ass. Because Manwë was involved, Melkor refused to tell them where he hid the Mary-sues. He even stuck out his tongue at them. That was an unforgivable insult, so the Valar kicked his ass out of the circles of the world.  
The Mary-sues lay rotting in a dark corner of the world. For eons untold, they lay in their own filth and developed a deep sense of hatred for logic, canon, and anything hideously ugly or prettier than them.  
Middle earth was safe from them for thousands of years. Then Sauron made the ring, but that's not too important. What IS important is that a fat abomination made the doings of Arda readily available to the ignorant masses. Some say that Tom Bombadil turned traitor. Others say it was a demented leprechaun. But I, and my opinion is the one that matters, as I am the narrator, believe it was a creepy New Zealander named Peter Jackass or something like that.  
His films made Arda, and in particular Middle Earth, known to fangirls. One by one, the Mary-sues were released from their deep, dark prison to wreak terror unheard of upon Middle Earth. Eru, once again, freaked out and shat himself, and as of yet, no Valar has managed to find his bong.  
The feeble defenses that were put up around Arda were shattered. Canon was so utterly mutilated that even MANDOS puked when he saw it. Logic screamed and hid, and needed copious amounts of liquor before it could be convinced to even peek out of its hidey-hole. The PPC, valiant though they were, fell in glorious combat with the menace. Grammar gave in and allowed itself to be remade. The Tolkien Purists were set upon and torn apart.  
With their major foes gone, the Mary-sues roamed freely over Middle Earth. Helpless to their wiles, the Free Peoples were in a tight spot, and the Forces of Evil and General-not-Niceness laughed their asses off. This is where our story begins. Fear for Arda my friends. I know *I* do.  
  
R/R please. 


	2. The council of Elrond and Oliver the Vag...

Elrond glided dramatically into the circle of chairs arranged around a short stone pillar. Having a 'What's wrong with this picture moment', he noticed that there were about thirty or forty more chairs than normal. Many of the dwarves were missing, save Gimli, and he sat alone, the space clear for about six feet on either side of him. Many of the young women on either side of him were whispering, pointing at him and making disgusted faces.  
Wait, what? Women? He distinctly remembered NOT inviting any women to the Council. Not only was it supposed to be a guys-only thing, with beer and Buffalo wings and the like, but virtually every female in Middle- Earth was pissed at him for ruining Celebrian's party.  
He pouted for a moment. Was it his fault that he didn't look good in purple? Was it his fault that he had an allergic reaction to Celebrian's make-up? Was it his fault that he had put runs in all of her fish-nets. . . oh, wait, that was his fault. His musings were interrupted by a stunning girl in a dress that exposed a LOT of skin. She had pink eyes, and. . . what? Pink eyes? He stopped and stared into those eyes until he began to feel a little dizzy.  
"Welcome, Liarna, daughter of the Elfish sisterhood."  
What the HELL had he just said? What was the Elfish sisterhood? What kind of B.S. name was Liarna? Why did she have pink eyes? Why didn't he look good in purple?  
"Thank you, King Elrond."  
Who the hell was King Elrond? Why was Círdan looking so good all of a sudden? Did Grishnahk still remember that he owed him ten bucks?  
He walked on to his seat at the apex of the semi-circle, and slumped down into it, lost deep in his thoughts. After a few minutes, Elladan poked him with a stick, causing him to jolt up and start the council.  
"Strangers from distant lands. . ."  
A hand rose over towards Gimli.  
"Yes, Alterntlodonmiel?"  
"Can we get rid of the short smelly thing? It's making my head hurt."  
Another one, Ilerwen, spoke up, "I think he just farted."  
Gimli smiled and leaned back in his seat, looking content.  
Elrond shook his head and returned to the council. He made it about half-way through his opening speech when he noticed that none of the females were listening. In fact, they were all chattering mindlessly. He cleared his throat.  
They stopped. One said, "Let's just take the ring to Mordor and be done with it!"  
Elrond thought that this was a bit quick, but, what the hell? He nodded and said, "One of you must do this."  
"I will take it!" shouted Frodo, unnecessarily, seeing as nobody was talking.  
'Oookkkaayyyy,' thought Elrond, 'I could have sworn there were a few bitch slaps and crying involved before we came to a decision on who took the Ring. But, oh well, those babes make me so hot I can't think straight anymore.'  
"You are too weak!" cried an elf, Oolwen or summat, "I will take the Ring!"  
"Like hell you will," screamed another, Sindiana, "I came from Elfshire, and we are immune to the power of the Ring!"  
Another one, Gwen. . . or at least that's what he thought. He couldn't understand a damn word that came out of her mouth, and it was punctuated with things that sounded like 'lol', 'm'kay?' and 'omg'. Elrond reached under his chair and grabbed a flask of Mirovour.  
Frodo looked a bit unwilling to argue with these women, but the Ring called to him, either that or he was hoping a fight would break out and he would have an opportunity to peek up their skirts; Elrond couldn't tell. He chugged half the flask and everything went slightly blurry. He could dimly hear Gimli say something along the lines of: "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf."  
"That can be arranged," snarled another beautiful girl.  
Frodo finally piped up, "Um, the Ring has passed to me, and I feel that I must see it to the end."  
All the women shrugged and accepted this. Frodo felt awed that ANY number of women had listened to him. He stammered, "But I do not know the way. . ."  
He glanced at Gandalf, who was whistling quietly to himself in the corner, pretending not to be there. Elrond took another swig.  
"Um, Gandalf," Frodo said, "That's your cue."  
"Huh? Oh, yes!" he cleared his throat and rose from his seat majestically, "I will help you bear this burden Frodo Baggins."  
"You have my sorcery."  
Gandalf raised his eyebrow at the girl who had spoken, "Who the hell are you?"  
She narrowed her silver eyes at him, "I am Celedine the Cerulean, elf- wizardess."  
THAT one made Elrond's head hurt. He took another swig as Aragorn offered his sword, along with about ten women. Another swig as Legolas and about twenty women offered their bows. A hiccup as Gimli offered his axe. A belch as Boromir and two women joined the growing group in the center. A fart as Sam came running in. Two swigs as Merry and Pippin, pursued by a dozen hobbit women, (when the hell did all these hobbits get here?) came in.  
He threw the now-empty flask away drunkenly, knocking a random elf into the river. He counted slowly,  
"Fifty comanionsh! Musht be shimbolic shomehow; but anywaysh, you shall be the Fellowship of the Ring. Get the hell out of my shight. I need to be drunk now."  
"I thought we were supposed to have a SMALL company. . ."Boromir managed before being rudely interrupted.  
"Well why don't YOU leave and it will be smaller?"  
"And take the short fat ones with you!"  
"You're just a big fat jerk Boromir!"  
"Loser!"  
Boromir sat down and cried. Frodo came over and patted him on the back,  
"There, there."  
But the girls didn't give up there,  
"Hit him harder Frodo!"  
"Beat him in the head!"  
One of the one with a strange way of speaking, Kaly, said something which none of the men could understand. All of the women, however, nodded in agreement.  
Boromir left. Gimli farted, then left for the toilet. Sam dragged Frodo away from about six women trying to rape him, keeping them back with judicious use of his frying pan. Elrond went to go find some crack. The council went downhill from there  
Dozens of scuffles broke out all over the place. Women beat the living piss out of each other to decide who would get to plight their troth with Legolas after the council. Arwen appeared to have disappeared, and in her place, a woman was playing tonsil-hockey with Aragorn while others looked on with jealousy. Surprisingly enough, all of the other elves were left alone to start a poker game.  
Chaos reigned as a woman ripped her shirt off and tried to fornicate with Legolas. The poor elf had a small heart-attack and the woman had to be beaten off by Lindir and Erestor. Suddenly, all of the women were intent upon having wild sex with Legolas, Aragorn, Merry, Pippin or (in one case) Glorfindel.  
In the ensuing insanity, bitch slaps were dealt, swear words were said, blood was drawn, heads were cut off. Well. . . okay, not the heads. Then, something happened.  
  
It happened to Legolas first, seeing as he was the most exposed. He just sat down and allowed himself to be touched in inappropriate places while the censors screamed themselves into oblivion. Then Aragorn apparently forgot all about Arwen and how she was giving up her mortality for him, and gave in as well. He was followed closely by Frodo, Boromir, Merry and Pippin. Elrond had about six women trying to come on to him, but he was so drunk that he didn't notice, and he kept screaming something about his name, rank and serial number.  
Alterntlodonmiel took advantage of her superior super-dee-duper powers and dragged Legolas away to have wild sex with him. Looking disappointed, the other women settled for other elves, and soon, Glorfindel, Lindir, Círdan, Erestor, Elladan, Elrohir, and several other random elves were under their power. Soon, the circle was empty, save for Gandalf, Gimli, fresh off the toilet, and Sam, having been beaten back from trying to rescue Frodo by a dozen rabid women.  
Gandalf suggested that they play 'Twister', causing Sam to have a sneaky suspicion that Gandalf had a thing for short hairy men in tight clothing. Gimli, however, slapped Gandalf in the face. A ugly man bitch fight was about to break out, when suddenly, Radagast the Brown and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted came running into the circle, saving Gandalf from certain back-wrenching and Gimli from being impaled on Gandalf's pointy hat.  
"Bad news," said Oliver.  
"Oh, shit. This isn't as bad as the Butter Incident, is it?"  
Radagast shuddered, "Ugh, I hope not. But it is serious," he looked around, "Where's the council, eh? We need to chat. There are these psychotic women running around, attaching themselves to attractive males. Everyone MUST be warned!"  
Gandalf shook his head and pulled a flask of beer from under his cloak. He took a swig, "You're too late Radagast. They have already come, and they're off doing the unspeakable with just about everyone in Rivendell."  
"Shit."  
"They didn't get the Ring bearer, did they? If they got the one Ring, we're fucked," asked Oliver.  
"Yep. They took poor little Frodo Baggins, and I shudder to think what they're doing to his poor little virgin body."  
Sam clasped his hands behind his back, looked up and away, and started to whistle softly. Gimli slapped his forehead.  
"Am I the only one who hasn't got sex on their mind?"  
Radagast smiled slyly, "We know all about that hot weekend with Sauron, Gimli."  
Sam struggled to keep his lunch where it belonged, "You had sex with a big eyeball?"  
"No. . . yes. . . NO! NO!! NO! SHUT UP! You don't know me!"  
Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted rolled his eyes and looked back at Gandalf, "We have to get that Ring to Mordor. If we don't, he will take over the world."  
"That actually doesn't sound too bad," said Gandalf.  
"It's not like the Valar have done such a bang-up job on it either," Sam muttered. He suddenly collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain.  
  
Eru smiled down, enjoying his brief moment of sanity.  
"Stupid git," the Creator said angrily, "I'll show him 'bang up job'. Stupid little dry-humping bastards, what the hell was I thinking when I made those little fuckers? Or did Aule get a little cheeky and decide to do a little sumthin-sumthin behind my back?"  
With that, he sent Aule into spontaneous bouts of pain, and, just for kicks, decided to punish the rest of the Valar too. He was just getting into evil-despot mode when a Vala came up and tapped him on the shoulder.  
He zapped her with a bit of the Flame Imperishable. She rolled her eyes, and said,  
"Sir, we have about two-hundred more of the Mary-sues in Arda. One of them is a Vala.  
Eru stood shocked for a moment, then ran away screaming, "Mr. Rogers! Mr. Jelly! 404! 404! God help me!"  
The random Vala sighed and went off looking for Eru's bong.  
  
Meanwhile, back in Rivendell, Sam had recovered from his bout of random screaming. The three Maiar looked at each other.  
"It appears Iluvatar is still unhinged," said Radagast calmly.  
The other two nodded.  
"These creatures," Gimli said, "What are they?"  
"They are elves. Mutated mangled elves. Eru screwed up while on a caffeine binge. They are called. . . Mary-sues," Oliver shuddered.  
"What must we do?" asked Sam.  
"We must gather all that have not fallen under the shadow."  
"Of Mordor?"  
"That too."  
"What are we waiting for?"  
With that, the five companions went off to destroy the menace. Oh, yeah, and the ring too. 


	3. The breaking of something

Disclaimer: A very nasty person just broke it to me that I do not own the Lord of the Rings. Excuse me while I cry like a little girl/beat the piss out of said person.  
  
When we last left our heroes, most of them were getting their brains screwed out. Ugh, not a pretty mental image. Our five remaining heroes, Gandalf, Radagast, Sam, Gimli, and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted, were setting off on a quest. . . to find a bunch of people who weren't getting their brains screwed out, and were insane enough to join a seemingly hopeless quest to destroy the Mary-sues that were threatening to destroy the quest to destroy the evil that would destroy Middle Earth. At this point, several readers' heads explode. KABLOOIE!  
  
Gimli rolled his eyes back into his head as he took a major hit from Gandalf's pipe. He passed it along to Sam, who had to be shown what to do, and he still burned himself. While he was screaming in the background, Gimli turned to Gandalf,  
"So. . . hehehe. . . what are we gonna. . . hehehe. . . do?"  
Gandalf, also drugged up to his eyeballs, laughed his head off for nearly an hour. Finally, when he was again capable of rational thought, he responded,  
"What was the question?"  
  
Gimli threw a pebble at Gandalf's forehead.  
"OW! Alright, alright! We split up and go for help."  
Radagast leaned forward intently, "Go to who?"  
"YOUR MOM! Hehehehehehehe!"  
Radagast slapped Gandalf in the head with an open palm. He leaned back, saying, "I will go to Fangorn and Rohan."  
"I will go to the dwarves," said Gimli.  
"And I to the hobbits," Sam said as he removed his head from a bucket of water, where he had been cooling the pipe-burn.  
Gandalf frowned, "I have personal business to attend to. And it's very private! So don't go bugging me with questions like 'Gandalf, what are you doing?' and 'Gandalf will you tell me a story?' because goddamnit I'm not telling you anything! ANYTHING!"  
They all stared at him. Gandalf blushed and looked away. Radagast looked around,  
"Hey! Where's Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted?"  
They all crept over to a closet. Sam muttered something about 'not disturbing someone with their sword out'; earning him a smack from Gimli. Radagast tentatively poked the door open, and they were blown back by a torrent of screams. Oliver was shrieking at his wall for no apparent reason, save for a half-dozen empty syringes.  
"Just leave the little doper a note telling him to go to Gondor," said Gandalf as he walked out the door, "I have business to take care of."  
DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN!  
Sam looked around wildly, "Did anyone else just hear that?"  
Gimli shook his head, "No, but I'm so high that I probably wouldn't notice a thousand Uruk-hai chopping at my body."  
"SHH! We're not supposed to know about that!"  
Gimli gave Sam the finger, "See you losers. I'm going to see the dwarves. They're cool."  
"Oh, and we're not?"  
Gimli left Radagast's question unanswered. The others hung around for a while, scrawling obscene words on the walls and peeing into the drinking well. At around nightfall, the combined sounds of noises that could only be described as orgasmic and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted screaming at a wall got to be a bit much, and Gandalf, Radagast and Sam got on their chosen modes of transportation and went as quickly as they could to their chosen destination. Before they left, Sam tried to get one last word in with Gandalf.  
"Mr. Gandalf, sir?"  
Gandalf rolled his eyes, "What do you want you pathetic little pile of excrement? And why the hell do you call everyone 'Mr.'? It's really annoying."  
"Sorry Mr. Gandalf sir."  
A sigh, "What do you want Mr. Sam?"  
"Stop that."  
"Stop what Mr. Sam?"  
"CALLING ME MR. SAM!"  
"You do it to me, you little maggot."  
"Yes, but I'm the obsessed, overly polite, best friend of the Ring- bearer. I'm allowed to be annoying."  
"Well I'm sick of being portrayed as the crusty old man with no sense of humor. I'll have you know that Bilbo and I used to take shits in the vats in the back of the Green Dragon."  
"Everyone does that Mr. Gandalf. It gives the beer more flavor. And besides, you are a crusty old man with no sense of humor."  
At this point, Gandalf throttled Sam with such vigor that we're not going into the specifics.  
Radagast pulled them apart, "Gandalf, what have I told you about skipping your medication."  
Gandalf put on a mock-thoughtful face, "That it's perfectly okay and I should do it more often."  
Radagast slapped him in the back of the head. He turned to Sam and asked kindly, "Are you all right dear boy?"  
"I'm sure I'll be fine once my brain stops bleeding internally."  
Radagast smiled, "Oh. Jolly good then."  
"Little fucker," Gandalf muttered, "Serve him right it will. 'You are a crusty old man with no sense of humor.' Huh. Kids today have no respect for their elders and demi-gods. If I had said something like that to Manwë, my ass would be so toast right now. I'd probably be floating in the Kùma with Morgoth. No respect at all. I should take my belt to. . . OW!"  
Radagast had hit him in the back of the head, "Shut your hole you crotchety old fuck."  
"Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, meet pot," Gandalf said.  
"Oh piss off."  
"Make me."  
Sam sighed, "And you two are the hope of the free world."  
They both looked at him, eyebrows raised. Sam whistled nervously for a moment, then said quickly,  
  
"NicetalkingtoyougottogothingstodoafterallI'llseeyoubothlaterafterIgetthehob bitsrousedtata!"  
Gandalf shook his head, "Dumb shit."  
Radagast nodded, "Yeah. And he didn't even get to ask you his question."  
  
"That's alright. I know what he was going to ask, and my answer was 'piss off'."  
"What was the question?"  
Gandalf snorted, "'Where are you going Gandalf?'"  
"What a dumb little fudge-packer," Radagast shook his head, "Did you notice how guilty he looked when you said Frodo was a virgin?"  
"I noticed. And don't think I didn't know that he was doing Frodo behind my back, the nasty little cheater."  
Radagast cocked an eyebrow at Gandalf. The other Istari hummed as he rocked back and forth on his toes. Finally the silence became too heavy and Gandalf ran away screaming, heading south. Radagast shook his head, and picked up the bag of weed that Gandalf had dropped in his idiocy. After all, it was a long way to Rohan. . .  
  
Later that night, Alterntlodonmiel was walking with Legolas, the poor elf hobbling a bit, seeing as his, er, private parts, were swollen from, er, overuse. The Mary-sue felt herself getting a bit randy again, and was just about to throw Legolas down and shag him rotten when she heard a faint scream.  
She drew her 'Magical Elvish blade of Magic' and rushed to the aid of, whoever. She really didn't care. It would make her look good in front of Legolas, and he might screw her voluntarily after this. The Mirkwood elf hobbled along behind the Mary-sue, enthralled by her false beauty.  
They rushed into the alcove where Gimli, Gandalf, Sam, Radagast and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted had met earlier. The screams were coming from here, she decided with her somewhat less than average reasoning skills.  
It was coming from behind a door that led into a broom cupboard. With no tact whatsoever, she flung open the door. . . and was instantly deafened by the screams of the drugged up Istari. Legolas, being the lesser immortal that he was (taste the bitter irony) was blown away by the screams, sending him flying through a window where Lindir was being forced into copulation, but by the mystical laws of Mary-suedom, this was not considered rape. Go figure.  
Alterntlodonmiel rose unsteadily to her feet, looking for the source of the noise that had certainly destroyed her lover. She looked around, and made a token search of the broom closet. She shrugged, and turned to find and then screw Legolas again. Oliver the heroin addict jumped down in front of her.  
She jumped and he laughed heartily. He pulled out a picture of Legolas doing the unspeakable with Haldir. She groped for it blindly, unaware of anything else around her. Oliver tossed it in the air, and thwacked her in the head while she was distracted. She fell to the ground, winded.  
Oliver, even doped up as he was, knew he would never get a chance like this again. He jumped onto her, knocking what little breath that remained out. He learned forward so that their lips were practically touching.  
Alterntlodonmiel began to panic, 'My god! I'm going to be raped by a really old ugly guy who's doped up and wearing polka-dots.'  
But the Istari did what she least expected. He opened his mouth, and belched. His belch smelled of pot, and alcohol. It overpowered her and she passed out on the floor.  
Oliver, being the kind Istari that he was, didn't kill her. He got up off of her chest, and turned to leave. Just before he left the cupboard, he snapped his fingers and turned back. Taking a bottle out from underneath his robes, he emptied the contents out over Alterntlodonmiel's inner thighs.  
He stalked away into the night. He had read the note between drug- induced screams, and he then took a horse from the stables and rode swiftly for Gondor.  
  
The bottle? It was pure poison oak extract. Alterntlodonmiel wasn't going to be in the mood to do Legolas for quite a while. It was the least Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted could do for the poor guy.  
  
A/N: What do you think? More reviews people! I'm just as addicted to them as Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted is to drugs. Oh, and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted is based on several people. My room-mate supplied the name and the asshole personality. The Very Secret Diaries' Manfred the Slightly Ecru and the PPC's Corvid the Plaid gave me the concept. Just thought I'd give credit where credit is due. 


	4. Beer, Pectorals, Randy trees, and a sect...

Chapter 4: Beer, Pectorals, Randy Trees, and solid blocks of Monty Python jokes Disclaimer: LotR is not mine. *sobs* We might need to rate this R methinks. Let me know. Warning: BLATANT MONTY PYTHON REFERENCES AHEAD!  
  
In the Green Dragon, it was fairly peaceful. There were about a hundred more of these 'Mary-sue' creatures lounging about, so Sam left his hood up, while he sat in the corner. He was smoking his pipe and trying to look mysterious, just like Strider. He was failing miserably at this, but he had several new pipe-burns to add to his growing collection.  
There was a clamor as the door swung violently open; throwing what looked like Rosie Cotton a meter back. Sam looked over at the bar to reassure himself that his secondary love (just in case Frodo died) hadn't been beaten with a heavy oaken door. No, she was fending off advances from what looked like a masculine version of the Mary-sues.  
The Mary-sue got to her feet uneasily. Her nose was smashed into a bloody pulp, and her forehead had a goose-egg larger than Aragorn's swollen head. Sam barely resisted the urge to cheer. The hobbit girl screamed shrilly,  
"Watch where you're going asshole!"  
"Piss off."  
It was Tom Cotton. Behind him were Fatty Bolger, Folco Boffin, and, wonders never cease, Ted Sandyman. Sam stood up and waved. Tom smiled, pushed the Mary-sue over, and walked towards Sam. Fatty and Folco followed him, but Ted Sandyman spat on the Mary-sue, and was about to urinate on her, but Tom called him over.  
The miller spat again, farted in her face, flipped off her friends, and came over to where the other four hobbits were sitting. Once he had sat down, Rosie pranced over, glad to get away from her stalker.  
"What'll you have lads?"  
"BEER!"  
"BEER!"  
"BEER!"  
Fatty Bolger frowned, "I don't know. . . I'm on a diet. . ."  
  
"Sissy," muttered Folco under his breath.  
Fatty drew himself up indignantly, "BEER!"  
They all turned to Ted. The nasty-ass hobbit sneered, "I'll have a beer and a little boob-show if ye don't mind."  
Sam snarled in rage. He reached over to Sandyman and slammed the miller's head into the table multiple times.  
Folco stared at the normally sedate hobbit in shock. Fatty leaned over and whispered, "He doesn't like having his lust objects mistreated or hit on."  
Folco nodded, "Still a bit scary though."  
"Yeah."  
Meanwhile, Sam was still pounding Ted's head into the table. The unfortunate hobbit was shouting something like 'Feckin' hell he broke my feckin nose the feckin barstard!' Tom reached over and touched Sam's arm.  
"Sam, you've proven your point."  
Sam nodded and dropped the miller onto the table. Rosie had scampered off to go get their beer. Sam leaned into the center of the round table, and everyone immediately backed away, except for Ted, seeing as he was hovering on the verge of unconsciousness.  
"My friends," Sam began, "And my new worst enemy, I bring tidings of the elves."  
"Oh feckin' lovely," Ted muttered, "It's always the elves with you Sam. It's the elves did this, and the elves screwed with that, it's all useless garbage and you can blow it out yer arse. Either that or you're ranting about that useless pretty boy 'Mr.' Frodo Baggins that you're always humping. You queer barstard."  
Sam drew his sword, intending to cut off Ted Sandyman's vulgar head, but Tom held him back. Rosie came back with their beers. All five hobbits chugged the glass and handed it back to her.  
"How 'bout another round dear sister?" Tom said cheerfully.  
"Of course Tom!" Rosie said as she walked away, moving her hips back and forth in a titillating way at Sam. Ted pinched her bum in a playful manner, causing her to squeal.  
Sam reached over and bashed Ted's head into the table again. This time Ted helped him. Folco and Fatty dragged them off, gave Tom some cocaine so he would calm down, and turned to Sam.  
"Tell us your news Sam." said Folco.  
Sam sat down, his face still flushed with anger (at Ted knowing that he was shagging Mr. Frodo and pinching Rosie's bum), "The elves are all overrun with the same creatures that plague us now. I am recruiting hobbits to go and destroy the menace, so we can destroy another menace that another menace wants so he can be a really big menace and destroy Middle- Earth," Sam took a deep breath.  
They all stared at him like he was an idiot who claimed he could fly to the moon just by drinking a glass of carbonated piss.  
"Start over again from 'the elves are all overrun'," Tom said slowly.  
"Menace? What menace? I don't see no menace."  
"And why should we bother with the elves? What have they ever done for us?"  
"Fuck off Sandyman. But I have to admit that I'm still confused."  
"Will there be food?" Fatty Bolger asked.  
Folco dealt him a hefty smack across the base of his skull, "Fatty."  
"That's my name. Don't wear it out."  
"You little shit! Don't sass me!"  
"Bring it on Fucko!"  
"WHY YOU!"  
  
As a fistfight broke out, Tom tapped Sam on the shoulder,  
"What's a menace?"  
Sam put his head in his hands and sobbed. He hoped the others were having more luck than him.  
  
Gimli certainly wasn't. For one thing, he didn't have any beer. For another, Mirkwood was completely under the Shadow. Of the Mary-sues that is. Dol Guldur had been pillaged and burned, and all the orcs slain.  
Being a dwarf or an orc was not a good idea if one wanted to traverse Mirkwood these days. Seeing as all the Mary-sues were a bunch of fluffy shallow bitches with the combined IQ of a relatively dumb buttered scone, if you were ugly, you were dead.  
Gimli was lost in trees. He hated trees. He hated elves, mostly. That Legolas chap had been pretty damn sexy (definitely not my opinion, I can't stand the bugger). But, back to his rant, he hated everything. This was not improved by a dozen Mary-sues on his tail.  
They had been following him for two days now. Five wraiths were behind him, where the other four were, he did not know. Sorry, couldn't resist a dig at Arwen.  
Not that the statement was entirely inaccurate. The Mary-sues followed him without rest. He had only survived by hiding under clumps of bush. The Mary-sues were too stupid to look under anything.  
He grumbled as he took off his boots to cross a random river that had appeared as a plot device. He was in the middle of the ford when the Mary- sues burst out of the trees.  
'Shit,' he thought, 'I'm fucked.'  
The head Mary-sue turned at him and shrieked, "THERE HE IS!!! KILL THE UGLY!!!"  
As one, the scum loaded their bows. Twelve shafts were aimed directly at Gimli's chest. As they drew back their arrows, he got an idea. He quickly tore the ties on his tunic, ripping it open down the center.  
"FEAST YOUR EYES!" he shouted at the shell-shocked Mary-sues. His entire chest was covered in tangled red-orange hair.  
Most of the Mary-sues fled in terror or fell to the ground screaming and sobbing. One, Liz, was screaming 'OMG WTF OMG WTF OMG WTF OMG WTF' at the top of her lungs in between her bouts of vomiting.  
However, the two lead Sues were still on their feet, and just as they were ready to release their arrows, Gimli grabbed his hairy, breast-like pectoral muscle and licked it, just like Fat Bastard in Austin Powers. Yes, be disgusted.  
The leader Sue's head exploded into tiny particles. The other Sue screamed as the brain bits fell all over her. She fell to the ground and hyperventilated until she died of asphyxiation. The rest crawled away, except for Liz, because she was a.) still puking, b.) winded from screaming OMG WTF over and over again, and c.) she was just as retarded as every other Mary-sue that ever existed.  
Gimli calmly walked over to the Mary-sue. Slowly, carefully, he raised his axe, and then brought it down on her neck. At the very last second, the Sue jumped forward, but it wasn't enough. The axe severed her body at the waist. She screamed in pain.  
Gimli laughed hysterically. This worked out so much better than he planned it. Two Mary-sues dead, one dying in an extremely funny way, and the rest terrified. He sat back smoked some ganja while the Mary-sue slowly and painfully bled to death, all the while professing that she had a secret love for Legolas. When he heard that, he cut off her foot, but then realized that the foot was already detached from the main body.  
After a few moments, her whimpers grew so heart-wrenching that even Gimli felt vaguely sorry for her. Gimli hefted one of his many axes, judging where it would cause the most pain if he threw it. Finally, he settled on the Sue's cerebrum.  
"Rest in pieces foul creature," Gimli said gruffly as he threw the axe at her head. She died instantly, and that was still far to good for her.  
Gimli buttoned up his shirt, made a mental note about tearing open his shirt in front of Mary-sues, and retrieved his axe. After wiping it on the Mary-sue's clothing, he stored in his belt. He whistled as he smoked his ganja and left the forest of Mirkwood.  
  
Radagast sighed. He wasn't having any more luck that Sam either. In fact, he was worse off than the other two put together. Sam had his beer, and Gimli had some cannabis. Being a fool, he had smoked all of his within the first fifteen minutes of riding. True, they were both surrounded by Mary-sues, but at least they weren't surrounded by soporific, celibate, and lethargic creatures. That's right, he was in Fangorn Forest.  
Treebeard leaned forward, "Young. . . hoom. . . Master Radagast. . . we have always. . . trusted your judgment. . . but what you are suggesting is. . . madness."  
"Listen to me slowpoke," said Radagast hotly, "We don't have time to bicker on about whether this is a silly idea. The lives of the elves are at stake!"  
"But. . ." Treebeard's eyes misted over a bit, "I thought you. . . hoom. . . said. . . that they were. . . just having. . ." a wistful sigh, "sex."  
"Nonstop."  
Treebeard and the other Ent beside him, Quickbeam, stared dreamily off into space.  
Radagast sighed. "Randy trees," he muttered under his breath.  
"What was that?" asked Treebeard with none of his usual slothfulness.  
"Nothing, nothing!" Radagast said quickly. There was nothing in the world worst than pissing off an Ent. They would fuck you in the ass. Sorry, Big Lambowski reference.  
"Hoom."  
Quickbeam's amber eye twitched as he turned to Treebeard, "Will you. . . fucking stop. . . saying. . . 'hoom'? It's really. . . fucking annoying. And. . . no other Ent speaks like that you. . . branchsuck."  
"Watch. . . it sonny. I may. . . be. . . twenty thousand years. . . your senior. . . but I can still whoop. . . your punk trunk."  
"Bring. . . it. . .on old. . . tree."  
"Right! I'll. . .do you for that!"  
Radagast sighed at the thoroughly ridiculous fight that was done in thoroughly ridiculously slow slow motion. After about an hour, Treebeard's fist finally connected with Quickbeam's chest, and Radagast had fallen asleep.  
  
Gondorians could be irritating little dick-heads Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted decided. After Ingold had checked his I.D, declared it invalid, and demanded another proof that he existed, Oliver had hit him in the face, screaming 'Is this proof enough ass-hole?' repeatedly. The legal bother had lasted for several hours, and Oliver had only gotten off by using a Maia Mind Trick (which is in no way affiliated with a Jedi Mind Trick ).  
The same process was repeated at every single gate, except that he actually had to commit sodomy to get off with a few. Now he finally was standing before the White Tower, and Denethor was being a fucking pisshead. The Steward was ranting about how he missed his sons (both having fallen to the plague of the Mary-sues).  
Oliver sat waiting. He got bored quickly, seeing as he was twitching from all the speed he had consumed on the way down from Rivendell (or Rivenhell, considering its current occupants) He stood up, nanced around a bit, pushed a few guards of the embankment, then went off to find a two coin whore.  
By the time he got back, Denethor was done pissing and moaning about nothing. He was dressed in his favorite pink robes, and was, wonders never cease, hanging from the ceiling on a wire.  
Oliver shook his head and walked solemnly into the hall. Denethor started twirling around on his wire like a total moron.  
"WHEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
"Multiple punctuation marks are the sign of a diseased mind Denethor."  
Denethor gave the Istari the finger, "Piss off. I HAVE a diseased mind you know, it all came from the pretty little ball. Pretty ball, me likey. . ."  
He stopped moving. As he stared into space and drooled, Oliver spoke up.  
"My lord Denethor. . ."  
Beregond came out of the shadows between the pillars. He leaned in close to Oliver, "M'lud, he will noht h'answer to h'anything other than. . ."  
Oliver interrupted him, "What's with the overly clichéd British accent?"  
"Oh! Sorry, been talking like that so long, I forgot there was another way to talk. Denethor demands it you see. You see, he's. . ."  
"I heard the name of my old life spoken." Denethor frowned down on them, looking over the cup of herbal tea that had appeared from nowhere.  
Beregond sighed, "Right then," the guard took a deep breath, "Excuse me Lord Fim Bim Wim Tim Sim Kim Yim Chim F'tang F'tang Alfred Brian Pennysworth Longfellow 'If I could walk that way. . .' Alice Q. Pinkleburg 'Raindrops keep falling on my head'," Beregond paused to slam his spear on the ground three times, make a clucking noise and imitate a snake, "Billy Snaklederm 'Don't sleep in the subway' Ole! Biscuitbarrel Walrustitty," Beregond took a deep breath.  
"The abbreviated name will do for now Beregond."  
The guard collapsed on the ground, "Oh thank Eru."  
"Now what is it that you want, Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted? Always you arrive on the eve of the storm."  
Oliver raised an eyebrow, "Erm, no. You're thinking of Gandalf. It has nothing to do with me. I'm not in this one. This is book 1, I'm not in till book. . .never."  
Lord Fim Bim Wim Tim. . . okay, I'll stop. Denethor shrugged, "It doesn't matter. Are you here about the flying lessons?"  
"Erm," Oliver looked over at Beregond, who merely indicated that Denethor was off his rocker. Oliver turned back to Denethor, "I suppose. . ."  
"Well up on the dais! Arms out, fingers together, knees bent!"  
Oliver held up his hands, "No, no, no. I came to get an army really."  
Denethor turned up his nose at Oliver and said in a very highbrow voice, "Oh, an army eh? Oh oh, no more buttered scones for me mater, I'm off. . . to play the grand piano. Pardon me while I command my army, now get on the dais!"  
"Look you old ponce! I want a fecking army, and I want it now! And people can't fly you tard!"  
"Well, if you want an army, you can piss off. We don't do wars here man. Make love, not war! Stick it to the man!"  
Beregond piped up meekly, "Um m'lud, you ARE the man."  
"Well piss. That sort of takes away my credibility don't it?" He laughed heartily.  
Nervously playing along, Oliver and Beregond laughed heartily as well. The echoes filled the halls until they drove small animals mad. A large line of rats did a can-can across the hall, causing a guard at the door to throw out a bottle of Dorwinion's best.  
Denethor abruptly stopped laughing, and Beregond and Oliver stopped as quickly as they could after him. The unhinged old man stared at them,  
"Well, Mr. Vaguely Polka-dotted, if people can't fly, what am I doing up here?"  
Oliver snorted derisively, "You're on a wire!"  
Beregond slammed his palm into his temple, "You went and did it now Oliver."  
Denethor drew himself up as best he could in mid-air, "Oh, I'm on a wire am I?"  
Beregond waved his hands at Oliver in distress, but the Istari ignored him and sneered, "Of course you're on a bloody wire."  
"I am not on a wire, I am flyin'."  
"You're on a wire!"  
"I am flyin'!"  
"You're on a wire!"  
"I'll show you whether I'm on a wire or not! Give me the oop!"  
Oliver raised an eyebrow, "What?"  
Denethor sniffed, "Oh, I don't suppose we know what an oop is. I suppose Pater thought they were a bit common, except on the bleeding croquet lawn!"  
Oliver brightened, "Oh, a hoop!"  
Denethor rolled his eyes, "OH! An Hoop!"  
Oliver passed up a wooden hoop (with a barely noticeable gap in the ring) to Denethor. The Steward promptly put it over his head, and it passed over him. Denethor looked smug, "There, now where's the bleedin' wire?"  
Oliver snorted, "That hoop's got a hole in!"  
"OH! Eru and Manwë, the oop's got a hole in! OF COURSE IT'S GOT A HOLE IN, IT WOULDN'T BE A BLOODY OOP OTHERWISE WOULD IT MUSH?"  
"No there's a gap in the middle there!"  
Beregond put his head in his hands and wept. The guards at the door did the same, and so did all the rats in the can-can line. This was going to be painful.  
"Oh," said Denethor, "A GAP, a gap in one's oop. Pardon me, but I'm off to play the grand piano."  
"Oh shut up you pissant! You're on a fucking wire!"  
"Look you bastard, I've already told you, I'm not on a wire, I AM FLYIN'!"  
And with that, Denethor lunged forward. Oliver would have been killed, if not for Imrahil's timely arrival. The doors burst open, and there stood Imrahil, the helm of Dol Amroth gone. In its place sat a British Constable's hat. One of the door guards started beating himself with the blunt end of his spear.  
"Here now, here now! What's all this then?" shouted Imrahil in an annoyingly high-pitched Welsh accent.  
Oliver sank to the floor, head in his hands. This was going to be harder than he thought.  
  
Meanwhile, in a random dark creepy tower somewhere. . .  
  
"So you'll help us?" Gandalf asked.  
"Of course," the low female voice replied, "How could we ignore Middle-Earth being overrun by these. . . creatures."  
From underneath her dark robes, the hitherto unnamed female character pulled a smoking package. She handed it to Gandalf, who accepted it with shaking hands. After a moment of it smoking in his lap, Gandalf looked over at the hitherto unnamed female character.  
"Can I open it?"  
"Of course."  
"Do you ever say anything different?"  
"I suppose not. . ."  
Gandalf tore open the packaging to reveal dozens of clear glass vials, filled to the bursting with different colored flame. He looked up at the hitherto unnamed female character,  
"What kind of ponce d'you take me for? What is this going to do besides make me look like a fairy?"  
She shook her head, "You still don't understand Gandalf. You must trust the power of the flames," she drew him close and whispered in his ear what the flames were capable of.  
  
The laughter reverberated throughout the random creepy dark tower.  
  
A/N: Whoa, that had to be the most Monty Python references in one page EVER. Kudos to A Thousand Paper Cranes for suggesting flaming as a tool. Also kudos to Bane of the Mary-sues and the aforementioned author for flaming so many stories into oblivion. Kudos to Annagorn for being. . .erm. . .Annagorn. Check out Slightly Insane Greenleaf and Other Stories if you're in the mood to go 'What the hell?" I now must go and rally against the man! Oh, wait, I am the man, at least in this house. Silly me. 


End file.
